


The Bane of the Caribbean (Remastered)

by DanielSan5992



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - No Rewind Time Powers (Life is Strange), F/F, Gen, Golden Age of Piracy, Pirates, big shocker, life is strange au, not historically accurate, past amberprice, pricefield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielSan5992/pseuds/DanielSan5992
Summary: AU where Max and Chloe’s pirate dreams are a reality.Five years after leaving her seaside town of Arcadia, New York, Captain Max Caulfield is assigned to escort the jewel of the Royal Navy to Kingston, valuable cargo in its hold. The journey is smooth until the terror of the Caribbean appears, sailing straight for them.The dreaded Captain Bluebeard.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	1. Captain Max Caulfield

**Author's Note:**

> The “remastered” version of my first fic. Slightly different, but hopefully better.

Morning came quicker than she expected. With a mixture of birds chirping and the sun shining through her window, she forced herself to get up. She changed into her captain’s uniform, which consisted of a crimson red jacket underneath a white shirt, with tan breeches and white stockings. After she got dressed, she went downstairs, having just enough time for something to eat before she saw a carriage pull up to the house.

She went outside, the driver already waiting. He opened the door.

“Thank you,” Max said as she stepped in. The carriage door closed behind her.

As the carriage sped away from her parents’ estate and down the road, she leaned back, reminiscing about how she got where she was in only five years. Having left New York when her father was called over to England, she joined the Royal Navy near the end of the Spanish Succession and served on a 22 gun brig, fighting Spanish ships until the war came to a close. For her service, she was rewarded with command of a new ship, her current ship, a 44 gun frigate, the _Chrysalis,_ and continued to patrol the Caribbean, occasionally intercepting a Spanish ship or two until she sailed to Kingston, where she was given a letter by Admiral Mark Jefferson to return to England, where she was told that she would be escorting the famed first-rate turned cargo ship _HMS Valiant._

The _HMS Valiant,_ the jewel of the British navy, was captured from a Spanish treasure fleet during the Spanish Succession. Originally used as a ship of the line, she was repurposed, all cannons removed, making room for more space in the hold. She was the ship that the monarchy uses to transport its vast wealth across the empire. The very ship that she, Max Caulfield, was assigned to escort. 

The door to her carriage opened. 

“Captain Caulfield, the Plymouth docks,” the driver said to her. 

“Thank you,” she responded, grabbing her hat before stepping out. _Captain,_ she thought to herself as she made her way through the crowded port. She had arrived back in England earlier in the week, and was able to spend a few days with her parents before she would set sail again. 

Walking along the docks, she could see the masts of the Valiant, with her ship anchored not too far ahead. Boarding the Chrysalis, she was greeted by another sailor.

“Captain! Welcome aboard!” He took off his hat and bowed to her.

“Thanks, Howard. And you know the traditional stuff isn’t necessary, right?”

“I know,” he said, putting his hat back on his head. “But it seems appropriate.”

Howard Wenton, Max’s first mate since she was given command of the Chrysalis. He always backed her and made sure the crew did the same. 

Making her way to the helm, she surveyed her surroundings, gazing behind her ship at the prized Valiant. 

Howard stood beside her on the poop deck. “Once a jewel of the Spaniards. Three decks, three masts, and a hold large enough to carry the King’s Army across the Atlantic.”

“But she’s not carrying soldiers, is she?”

Howard shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. We’re delivering much-needed supplies to Kingston.”

“Supplies, huh? Must be important if she needs an escort.”

“With the way pirates have control of those waters, every ship carrying supplies would need an escort. Just hoping to God we don’t run into any.”

“Here’s hoping.” She had heard stories of the pirates that roamed the Caribbean waters, from the infamous Blackbeard to Charles Vane and Ben Hornigold. But above all was Captain Bluebeard, who struck terror into the hearts of even the most experienced sailors. “You think they’d try to mess with us?”

Howard shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Some might shy away from taking on several ships at once, others might jump at the chance.”

She nodded, hoping the journey would be smooth.

“Captain!” a voice called from the docks.

“Yeah?” she responded.

“The Valiant is ready to go. We’re waiting for your signal.”

“Tell the convoy to set sail!” she yelled before taking a hold of the wheel of her ship. “Raise anchor! Loosen sails!”

The convoy pulled away from Plymouth port and sailed out into the Atlantic, bound for Kingston. It would take five weeks to sail there. Five weeks on the open ocean. Five weeks of, hopefully, calm waters and no pirates.

*****

A small breeze blew through the trees, not a cloud in the sky. The chatter of people could be heard in the distance. Another day in paradise.

She took another sip from her rum bottle, waiting for the repairs to her ship to finish so she could bring terror to more British sailors. The last captain she fought was a formidable opponent and managed to deal a significant amount of damage to her ship, but, like always, she was the one to come out ahead. 

“Chloe,” a voice from behind her said.

“Huh?” she responded, looking over her shoulder.

“Follow me. I want to talk with you.”

She groaned. “We can’t do it here?”

“No.”

Groaning again, she downed the rest of the rum, tossing the bottle aside before standing up. “Fine. Lead on.”

The man took her from the coast through the outskirts of the town and up towards a large white building, pushing in the double doors and stepping inside.

“We really had to come to the villa?”

“Yeah.”

They turn left and make their way down to a door at the end of a long hallway. Opening the door, the room was filled with luxury goods, with a red carpet rolled straight down the center, stopping at a large table with a map of the entire Caribbean in the middle of the room, with a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“So…” Chloe began, leaning on one of the chairs placed around the table, “what’s so important?”

He walked around to the opposite end of the table and sat down before speaking. “An undercover schooner just came back from Kingston. Word is that the British are expecting the arrival of a convoy carrying supplies for the town, being escorted is the famed Valiant.”

She did a double-take. “The Valiant? As in _the_ Valiant?”

He nodded, pointing to the map. “Yes. They’re supposed to be sailing southeast of here within the next few days. Your ship is repaired, so go out and plunder the Valiant. We’re bloody low on supplies, and with how much that ship can hold, we’d be set for months. Now go.”

Running from the villa into the streets of the town, she quickly retrieves her newly sharpened swords from the blacksmith before climbing aboard her ship.

“Captain! What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” she responds, taking hold of the ship's wheel. “Raise anchor and lower sails! It’s hunting time.”

Once the anchor was raised and sails were unfurled, the brig pulled away from the port, her navy blue crossbones flag flying in the wind. She pulled a blue face veil over her mouth and nose. _Bluebeard’s back, you bastards,_ she thought, _and we’re coming for your precious Valiant._

*****

The sea was calm, the sky slightly overcast. It had been four weeks of smooth sailing, save for the one or two squalls they had encountered.

Leaning on the poop deck, she looked out at the convoy, seeing the sails of the majestic galleon she was escorting, flanked on either side by two brigs. 

Howard walked up beside her. 

“The Valiant’s a beauty, isn’t she, Captain?”

She smiled. “You can say that again, Howard.”

“Only… what, another week to Kingston?”

She nodded. “Give or take a few days, depending on the weather. Either way, it’ll be nice to be back in safe waters again.”

Safe waters was putting it lightly. They had already crossed the Atlantic and were now in pirate territory, and had to be watchful of any ships they came across. Spaniards and pirates alike were everywhere, and any would be more than happy to take the prized Valiant.

“Speaking of safe waters…” Howard gazed over her shoulder before walking to the starboard side of the helm, taking out a spyglass. “Captain. You’re going to want to see this,” he said, turning to her and holding it out to her. 

She walked over to him, taking the spyglass and peering through it, seeing a single ship on the horizon. “Looks like a brig. No more than 28 guns,” she said as she lowered the spyglass before turning to Howard. “Signal our brigs to engage!”

She watched as he ran down to the deck and hoisted a reg flag before turning and watching the brigs peel off from the Valiant to engage the ship. One single 28 gun brig against two 26 gun brigs of the best navy in the world? That ship captain was doomed. Raising the spyglass to her eye again, she focused on each of the British brigs before turning on the engaging ship, seeing the ship’s cannons coming into a clearer view… and the flag it was flying. She lowered the spyglass, her eyes wide at the realization. That wasn’t any ship captain. 

“Are you cereal? No… it can’t… no,” she muttered, raising the spyglass to her eye again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, the flag coming into clearer view. 

The “Bones of Blue,” as it was called, was fluttering in the wind. 

“Howard!” she yelled. 

He looked up from the main deck. “Captain!” he responded.

“Signal the brigs to return! Don’t engage that ship!”

“What? Why?”

“Because that” -she pointed to the ship- “is the Firewalk!”

The _Firewalk_ was the scourge of the Royal Navy, and her captain, Bluebeard, was no better. Though just a 28 gun brig, it was armed with cannons found on first-rate ships of the line, with plated metal on each side and sails that made it faster than an empty clipper. She could fight half a dozen frigates and come out unscathed, mostly thanks to her captain.

Bluebeard was just as much as a pain in the Royal Navy’s arse as the ship he commanded. Using a combination of heated shot, chain shot, fire barrels, and mortars allowed him to go up against even the best the Royal Navy could pit against him. Ruthless against all British sailors he came across, he always wielded double swords, four pistols, and could strike down a dozen seamen with the blink of an eye. But this was only rumor, for no sailor had survived a battle against him. He was such a problem that the Crown and the governors in Kingston and Charleston offered a 5,000 pound reward for his head, and 10,000 pounds for him alive. 

“Too late, Captain!” a lookout yelled from the rigging. “Look!”

She looked to starboard, the Firewalk sailing between the two British brigs, broadsiding both of them. They returned fire, and soon a white curtain of smoke fell over the three ships. 

“Howard! Slow the ship!” she commanded. “If they want the Valiant, they’re going to have to go through us first!”

As the Chrysalis’ sails were folded, she glanced back at the cloud of smoke, seeing a ship emerge from it. 

“She’s made it through!”

“Figures,” Max muttered. “Ready the…” The Firewalk’s cannons shot, cutting her off.

Howard ran up to the helm. “Chain shot!” he yelled.

She gripped the wheel, the Firewalk coming upon them. “Get ready to broadside them!”

The Firewalk, however, didn’t come up beside them. Rather, Bluebeard maneuvered the ship in between the Chrysalis and the Valiant. 

“What is he doing?”

“The same thing he did with the brigs! He’s trying to sink both of us! Are the cannons loaded?”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Fire!”

With that command, The Chrysalis’ cannons unloaded into the pirate brig. The Firewalk quickly returned fire.

“Brace!”

The cannon fire stopped for a brief moment, grappling hooks taking hold of her ship.

She drew her cutlass. “Prepare for boarding!”

Her crew drew swords just as pirates from the Firewalk boarded her ship. Howard ran down onto the deck, engaging them. Two brazen pirates swung on ropes from the Firewalk and landed on the helm. She stood her ground, parrying thrust after thrust, not giving in to either of them. 

A musket fired, killing one of the pirates and drawing the attention of the other, allowing Max to thrust her sword into the other pirate’s chest before pulling it out as he fell on the deck. She turned to look at the sailor that fired the musket, a hole appearing in his forehead before he was shoved over the side of the ship, splashing into the water below.

The pirate holstered his pistol as he walked up the steps to the helm, unsheathing two swords. “You’ll pay for that,” he promised as he pointed a sword at her.

She noticed his navy blue jacket and bandana. Bluebeard. She clutched her sword’s handle, ready for a fight. “Make me.” 

The cold metal of swords clashed at the Chrysalis’ helm. The two combatants swung countless blows at each other but none landed. Max parried a quick blow from the left side, deflecting it but stumbling backwards. The rumors were right. Bluebeard could strike down anyone with the blink of an eye. 

Seeing her stumble, he swung his swords down at her. Reacting instinctively, she dove forward. He missed, and she spun around, swinging her sword from her right. He deflected it, both of them recoiling. 

Breathing heavily, he wiped his forehead with his jacket’s sleeve. “You’re a tough one.” 

She met his gaze, smirking and raising her sword. 

He charged her as if he were in a fit of rage, swinging each sword at her individually. She was having a tough time parrying each blow. Blocking a blow from above, she swung her sword down and out to the left, exposing herself to an attack. Her right foot was swept out from under her, and she hit the deck with a thump, dropping her sword. She looked up, a blade inches from her face. 

“You fought well. But not well enough. Round up everyone else!”

She was kneeling on deck with half a dozen survivors, smoke, and the stench of gunpowder filling the air. Dead bodies of her crewmates, swords, pistols, and muskets were scattered around the deck, her own was thrown overboard after she surrendered. Despite how fiercely her crew fought, they were no match against the dreaded Bluebeard. His crew was rejoicing, both on the Firewalk and her ship. 

“Now, now… the Captain,” he said, pacing back and forth, glancing at each of them before setting his eyes on her. “You!” he yelled, grabbing her by the coat collar, pulling her up off of her feet. She was suddenly brought face to face with the most feared pirate in the Caribbean, fear overtaking her. He took out another flintlock and brandished it in front of her face. “Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he spoke in a gruff voice. “Like any other Bloody Navy captain I come across, there’s gonna be a bullet in your head so goddamn fast, all that’s left will be a mangled red mess.”

“No!” 

Both of them turned to see Howard rushing at the pirate captain. Bluebeard threw her to the ground before firing his flintlock, striking him in the stomach. She tried to get up, only to be held back by two other pirates. All she could do was watch as he drew a sword and ran it across the man’s neck. He crumpled to the deck, both hands on his neck, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Kill the rest!”

Muskets fired, the remaining British sailors falling dead on the deck. Bluebeard approached her again, a flintlock pointed at her head. 

She looked up at him. However, it wasn’t fear that engulfed her. Rather, it was her trying to recall where she had seen his face before. His blue eyes seemed so… familiar. She could tell he was thinking the same thing. “No,” he finally said, taking hold of her. “I’m taking this one to my cabin.”

As she was pushed onto the Firewalk, one of the pirates protested.

“Captain!” He’s British.”

“Thank you for pointing that out. Don’t worry about what I’m doing. Just load up supplies from the Valiant.”

“Uh, it’s not provisions Captain.”

“What? What is it then?”

“Wood and sails. Useless to us.”

He shook his head before spitting into the ocean. “Dammit. Let it carry on.”

“What? Why?” someone questioned.

“We’re low enough on shot as it is. I’m not wasting any more to sink an unarmed, useless ship. Look for another ship! I’m not returning with an empty hold!”

As he led her into his cabin, she felt him let go of her arm, watching him place his hat on a desk in the middle of the room. He turned to her, pulling his blue bandana down from his face before speaking. 

“Hey, Max. Been a long five years.”

She now recognized who it was, her mouth dropping. “C-Chloe?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [escherlat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherlat/pseuds/escherlat) for beta’ing.


	2. Reunion

“Chloe… you’re Bluebeard?” Max asked, still shocked.

“Yes, Max. Hard to believe?” Chloe said as she took a seat behind the desk in the middle of the room. 

“Do you know how many English sailors you just killed?”

“Yeah. A lot. So?” she responded as if nothing had happened. 

“So? So? You sink two ships and all you say is ‘so?’” 

“I’ve done it before,” she snarled back defensively. “Serves them right for taking everything from me, not that you would know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Max, a lot of shit’s happened since you abandoned me in New York.”

“Chloe, that doesn’t give you… wait. You… you think I abandoned you?” she asked.

“Well, what else would you call it?” Chloe responded, gesturing at one of the chairs in front for Max to sit down. 

She reluctantly sat down, meeting Chloe’s gaze, trying to think of something to say. “I… I don’t know, Chloe, but… I didn’t try to leave you.”

“What do you mean ‘you didn’t try?’” she spat. “My dad didn’t try to get picked for a bullshit ‘expedition,’ but look at what happened.”

She vaguely recalled that William left before she did. “What… happened to William?”

“I don’t know, but this isn’t about my dad, Max!” she shouted, slamming her fist on the table. “This is about you! Imagine waking up right after your dad is sent away for who knows what reason to find out that, no, your best friend is taken away from you too! And not just you, but your whole family! I thought you would write to me about where you were, and when you didn’t, I thought you were dead. And then I find you, five _fucking_ years later in the goddamn Bloody Navy of all things.” She got up from the desk and walked to the other side of the cabin, arms crossed. 

“I…” Max started but stopped herself. She didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say when you come back into someone’s life who thought you were dead? “Chloe,” she said again, getting up and walking over to her, “I… I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I should have, and I’m sorry. But I thought my parents told Joyce that we were moving to England.”

Chloe sighed, shaking her head. “Well, if they did, she never told me. I would’ve left then.”

“Why? I thought you liked Arcadia.” 

“No, it wasn’t Arcadia. It was New York. After… my dad left, we moved there to find work. My mom eventually started seeing this rich ass-dick with a mustache and tried to arrange a marriage because it was ‘my time.’ I said ‘fuck that’ and hopped on the first merchant ship out of there. Fast forward a few years, and boom. Piracy.”

“But… why piracy?” Max asked, confused. “Couldn’t you have sailed on merchant ships and earned a living that way?”

Chloe huffed. “Max, I don’t know what those idiots on the other side of the ocean tell you, but piracy isn’t as bad as they make it out to be. I’m guessing they say that we’re just out for blood and riches?”

“Uh, yeah,” Max sheepishly admitted.

“Well, we’re not. I am, though. For the former at least, _because,_ ” Chloe emphasized, seeing that Max was about to question, “because, of all the shit I’ve been through. I didn’t have bounties placed on my head for nothing. Besides, Nassau is always in need of supplies.”

“Nassau. The… pirate republic?”

“Yep. We’re not self-sufficient. Besides, sailing itself is appealing, but piracy?” she explained. “We’re free out on these waters. We make our own decisions. _We_ are in charge, not some monarch across the Atlantic who thinks he owns every inch of the world.”

Chloe silently made her way back to the desk, leaning against it. “So… what about you, Max? Why’d your family leave?”

“Business,” she said. “My dad got a big offer to go to England… and he took it. I joined the Royal Navy right before the conflict with Spain ended. After that, it was just… stuff like this.”

Chloe just nodded. Silence fell over them for a while before Chloe eventually broke it, walking over to Max, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, look. I… owe you an apology for lashing out at you. It isn’t your fault that you left, and I’m sorry for saying it was.”

“I’m sorry too, Chloe,” Max said. “I should have written.”

“Yeah, but who knows how long it would’ve taken to cross the Atlantic.”

They both smiled, looking into each other’s eyes. 

“Are… we still Max and Chloe?” she asked.

“Dude…” Chloe began, pulling Max closer to her, wrapping her in a hug. “We’ll always be Max and Chloe. I’ve missed you.”

Initially surprised, Max hugged her back. Even after five years apart, she was still Chloe. She no longer cared about what had just taken place. She had her childhood friend back. “I’ve missed you, too.”

After a few more seconds, Chloe released her. “Okay, now that the mushy shit’s over, we need to celebrate.” She walked over to a chest on the right side of the room and opened it, revealing about a dozen rum bottles inside. She took two out and opened them before offering one to Max.

“I… don’t drink,” she said.

“Well,” Chloe started, forcing it into Max’s right hand, “we’re going to change that.” 

She raised her bottle. “We’re Max and Chloe. Forever,” she said before taking a drink.

“Forever,” Max repeated, looking at the bottle that was shoved into her hand, unsure of whether to drink it or not. 

“Come on Max. Just try a little,” Chloe insisted. “It’s not going to kill you.”

The rum had a slightly sweet taste, which surprised her.

“That was… different.”

“See? What’d I tell you?” Chloe took her bottle, setting them both on the desk. “Now, I want you to…”

One of the cabin doors opened, interrupting her. A head poked in. “Captain, there’s a Spanish ship coming up. Brig, no more than sixteen guns. Do we engage?”

“What do you think?”

The pirate nodded, yelling as he closed the door, “Load cannons!”

“Shit. We’d better get out there,” Chloe said. She pulled her bandana up from her neck over her mouth before routing around for something behind her desk. 

“Max, take that off,” she said over her shoulder, gesturing to Max’s entire body.

“Take… what off?”

“That… your red jacket.”

Not long after she had it taken off was a black one flying at her.

“Here. Put this one on instead.”

“Uh, okay. Why?” she asked, pulling her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, which surprisingly fit her.

“Because,” Chloe began, standing up, “most of them out there, myself included, hate the British jacket. Besides, you look better in black.” She ruffled her hair.

“Do… you think they’ll say anything? That one wasn’t really fond of you taking me on board.”

She shrugged. “Eh, They’ll just have to deal with it. Come on.”

Max followed Chloe out onto the deck and up to the helm. To her relief, none of the pirates were focused on her. Instead, all eyes were focused on the Spanish brig, which was coming up portside. However, the ship didn’t attack. Instead, she seemed to be slowing down.

“What the hell?” Chloe muttered. “Furl sails! Let’s see what they want!”

The Firewalk’s sails folded as she came up beside the Spanish brig, her captain leaning on the starboard side of the helm. He shouted something to them.

“What?” Chloe yelled back.

The captain spoke again, leaving Chloe with a confused look.

“Okay, do any of you speak Spanish?” Chloe asked her crew.

One raised his hand. He was a short fellow with raggy brown hair hanging over a bandana, looking no more than seventeen. 

She pointed to the Spanish captain. “Translate what the fuck he’s saying!”

Doing as he was told, the boy conversed back and forth with the captain before turning to her. “He wants to know what you want.”

“Food. Provisions. Whatever they have.”

More conversing.

“He says he’ll give it to you, under one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You let him sail on to his destination. He doesn’t want any trouble.”

“Done deal,” she answered without hesitation. “Hook them in but don’t kill any of them! We’re taking it peacefully.”

As most of her crew pulled in the Spanish ship, one pirate protested, the same one that protested against her taking Max on board.

“Captain…” he began.

“Shut it,” she snapped back, pointing a finger at him from the helm, “I don’t want to hear anything more from you. The Valiant was disappointing enough, and all I want to do now is return to Nassau with _something._ Now, will it be possible for you to keep your mouth shut until we’re anchored?”

The pirate begrudgingly nodded.

“Good. Now help take the cargo to the hold.”

There was more cargo than she had anticipated, and it took her crew about thirty minutes to transfer everything from the Spanish brig to hers. However, her ships hold was full, being enough to supply Nassau for a good amount of time before the others could return. With thanks exchanged through Chloe’s translator, the grappling hooks were broken, and the Spanish brig sailed away.

“Loosen sails! You,” Chloe said, pointing to one of her crewmen, “take the wheel. Get me when we reach Nassau.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The Firewalk’s square rigged sails on her two masts were unfurled, her course still set for the pirate haven.

Chloe led Max back into her cabin, who was visibly shocked at what she just witnessed. 

“Chloe… how? They just gave up?”

She shrugged. “My reputation precedes me, I guess? But now that we’ve got more time to burn, what was it like in England?” She sat down behind her desk, removing the bandana from her face before reaching for one of the rum bottles.

“It was… okay,” Max began, sitting down, taking the other one. The previously tense atmosphere had changed in the half hour they were gone. “There weren't many opportunities for me, and when sailing came my way, I took it. Being out on the ocean’s nice. No… laws. No…” She began to trail off, realization hitting her.

“No what?”

“No… anything. It’s like what you said before. _You’re_ free. _You’re_ in charge.”

“See? Told you it was appealing.”

“So… what about you? You said a little bit, but how did you exactly get into it?”

Chloe looked back out the window, sighing. There was a pause before she went into detail, how she and Joyce had moved into the heart of New York City to find work. How she left to escape an arranged marriage. How she settled in Charleston for a time before she returned to the sea and found the pirate republic. Max sensed that Chloe was skipping over details, especially during her time in Charleston, but decided against prying further. She wished she had been there for her, and inside was kicking herself for not keeping in touch. But Chloe had forgiven her, and they had each other again. 

Once Chloe was finished, they sat in silence for several minutes, occasionally taking a sip of rum. 

The cabin door opened again. “Captain, Nassau is on the horizon.”

Chloe nodded. “I’ll be right out. Damn, time flies,” she said, turning around behind her. The window to the outside was showing the sky in an orange tint. “I’m guessing you’ve never been to Nassau, have you?” she asked Max.

“No. I have heard stories about it.”

“Well,” she said as she stood up, walking over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Prepare to witness it firsthand.”

*****

“Frank, come on.”

“Damon, I don’t understand. Why are we here?” he asked, disembarking onto the docks.

“Because, Frank, this place has what we need.”

“Where?”

“There’s tons of warehouses around here. That’s where the supplies are.”

“How the hell are we supposed to get everything back to the ship and out of here without being shot at? Just look at all the ships here.” He gestured at four different docked British frigates.

Damon grunted. “You’re thinking too much Frank. Look, there’s a tavern. He pointed at a building two streets away from the docks. “Get a drink. I’ll take care of it.”

He shrugged. “I won’t pass up a drink… wait,” he trailed off, his gaze turning to the other side of the port.

“What? What do you see?”

“Is that… Ben?” he asked, pointing to a group of five or six redcoats in the distance, surrounding a man in a navy colored jacket.

“What? Ben’s in Havana,” Damon said. He couldn’t get a clear view of who Frank was talking about, but he knew for a fact that it wasn’t Ben Hornigold. Ben Hornigold was in Havana, hassling for provisions there for Nassau.

“I know… but that looks like him,” he said, beginning to walk over.

Damon grabbed him by the collar. “No! Don’t… go over there. Just go to the bar.”

“But…” Frank began to protest.

“Look,” Damon said again. A group of women were walking into the tavern. “There’s your chance to get lucky.”

Frank looked at the door to the tavern, then back at the people on the docks. “Ah, fuck it,” he said, running off to the tavern.

Damon breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he muttered before making his way over to the group of people Frank had just pointed out. Unlike him, who had permanently put Frank as first mate, Ben had never appointed one, at least to his knowledge. He also had his crew secretly switched out for British sailors months back, something he still had to do. 

“Damon!”

“Ben, I told you to be discreet,” Damon lectured him through gritted teeth.

“I…” he stuttered, “I was discreet.”

“Well, I don’t believe for a damn second that Frank’s getting more observant.”

Hornigold straightened up. “He’s still alive, is he?”

Damon shrugged. “Not for much longer. At least until this meeting’s over.”

“We should get going. He’s probably waiting.”

“Let’s go.”

Ben gestured to the redcoats, and they were escorted through the city. The presence of the two pirates had turned many heads. The locals had no knowledge of their actual allegiance, and neither had their pirate allies. 

Well, _former_ allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d.
> 
> Unlike my other works, I’m planning on having a semi-weekly update schedule. The election kinda fucked me over on how much writing I wanted to get done, but I’m back on track. Hopefully, if writers block and insecurities would kindly fuck off


	3. The Kingston Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work. It’s slightly rushed, might go back later and change some things.

The British flag was flying on a pole outside the governor’s manor, a grand building situated on a hill overlooking the young port. The white siding of the manor still looked new, as if it were just a week old, not an entire decade. 

Having reached their destination, the redcoats dispersed as the two pirates approached the stairs to the entrance. 

Hornigold looked back down the street. “You sure Frank’s not going to come back?”

Damon stopped. “Ben. He’s in a tavern. With women. And he’s probably drunk by now. I can guarantee he’s not coming out anytime soon.” 

As they began up the stairs, they were stopped by a British soldier, musket in hand.

“State your business here or leave. This is property owned by the British governor.”

“Did you not just see your buddies leaving you fat…”

“We have a meeting with the Admiral,” Hornigold said over him. He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his light blue jacket and handed it to the soldier. 

The soldier took it with his free hand, glancing over the paper. He noticed the Admiral’s seal at the bottom. With evidence that it was real, he nodded, giving back the paper. “Follow me.”

Entering the inside, they were met with a chandelier hanging from the foyer, flanked on either side by winding staircases. The soldier led them up the stairs and to the left, leading them down a hallway. Portraits of various British noblemen were hung on both sides of the wall. He stopped at the third door on the left, the door creaking as he opened it.

“Admiral? You have visitors.”

“Send them in. Ah, you’re here,” Jefferson said, looking up from a table. “Drinks?”

“Money,” Damon demanded, leaning on the table. “I want my money.”

He put a hand up. “In time, Mr. Merrick. In time.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Am I getting my money or not?”

“You will… once the deal is finished. Your end of the bargain has been held up. I want mine to be as well. Now, Mr. Hornigold, is Nassau still vulnerable to attack?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

He nodded. “They’re low on food, and most of the pirate captains are away looking for some. I doubt whoever’s left will put up much of a fight.”

“Good. As previously discussed, you will lead a force to Nassau. I have provided three frigates and 180 men to take the island, as well as a brig to report your success to me here. Return the island to our control, and if you are successful…”

 _“When,”_ Hornigold corrected him.

Jefferson rolled his eyes. _“When_ you are successful, you will receive a king’s pardon and the governorship of the island.”

He smirked. He would have more power and wealth than he would have ever gotten as a founder of the republic. 

Jefferson then turned to face Damon. “Now, Mr. Merrick. Once word comes that Nassau is retaken, you will assist me in hunting down every last pirate in these waters. Then you will be paid. Five hundred pounds per, with an additional five thousand for Bluebeard’s head. I suppose you will be able to do it, considering you hunted down one before.”

“Bloody Bill,” he huffed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I know. He was a good sailor. Such a shame he, as so many others, have decided to turn to this… way of living.” 

The two pirates glanced at each other. They both took up piracy when hostilities with Spain ended. Some others decided to in years prior. But there was one reason they all defected to piracy. Freedom. Freedom on the open seas. Freedom from the monarchical rule. Not riches or bloodshed, but the ability to live however they choose. Unfortunately, the dreams of wealth and power can still corrupt the mind, and Damon and Hornigold were no exception. 

Jefferson rose from his seat. “Follow me.”

They follow him back outside onto the porch to the right side of the manor, overlooking the port town to their left. The sun was setting, casting shadows along the roads. To their right, sugar plantations, the slaves turning into their small accommodations for the night.

“This is one of the most important ports we have here in the Caribbean,” he said, rambling. “This place flourished when the Spanish conflict ended, but now it’s in jeopardy, all thanks to pirates. If you succeed in ridding the vermin in Nassau, I can guarantee that you will be celebrated by all Englishmen from here to London. Do you see that ship?” he asked, pointing to one of the many docked vessels in the harbor.

“Which one?” Hornigold replied, scanning the harbor, not being able to discern the ship Jefferson was referring to. 

“That one, at the farthest right, under construction.”

“Yeah. What’s so special about it?”

“What’s so special about it, Mr. Merrick is that that ship will soon be the prized vessel of the Royal Navy. Yes, the Valiant is sought after, but because of her grandeur. This one… this one is different. This is the ship that will strike fear into the hearts of sailors. No. _We_ will show that these waters belong to the Crown, not to the pirates or Spaniards or Frenchmen.”

“When should we set sail?” Hornigold asked after a slight pause.

“Dawn. In the meantime, upgrades will be made to Mr. Merrick’s ship.”

“Speaking of, I need a new crew. There’s no way any of them would come back.”

“A regiment will be assembled to take care of them. Go back inside, we’ll discuss further.”

*****

The night provided cover for their plan. A shot would be fired in the dark, Damon would come running and grab his crew, leading them into a redcoat trap. After that, wait for news from Nassau and start hunting pirates.

As usual, the tavern was crowded with people. Sailors, merchants, and, of course, women. The smell of alcohol filled the air as people chatted, played cards, or some drunk seaman attempted to woo over some of the ladies. 

Damon, in his loud fashion, kicked the doors open. All the noise stopped, everyone looking at them as if the King himself just walked through the doors.

“DAMoN!” a voice greeted them from the bar. Frank, clearly drunk, stood up from a stool and stumbled over to them, a rum bottle in hand. He threw his arms around him. “I’vE mISsEd yOu,” he slurred.

“I’ve been gone for an hour,” Damon said, holding out his arms from his sides, clearly uncomfortable with the affection Frank was showing him. “How much did you drink?”

Frank moved his hands to Damon’s shoulders before letting out a large breath no more than six inches from his face.

“What the… _Jesus fuuck…”_ Damon said in disgust as the breath reached his nose, smelling of rum, fish, and something he couldn’t even begin to describe. 

“Drinks for everyone!” Hornigold yelled as Damon started coughing, trying to divert attention away from them. “I’ll keep everyone here busy, you do what has to be done,” he whispered.

Damon glared at him out of the corner of his eye before flipping him the bird. Turning his attention back to Frank, he led the drunk out of the tavern and out into the main center of Kingston. The fresh air helped clear out Frank’s breath from his nose, though there still was a decent smell of rum.

“But…” he started to protest.

“You’ve had enough to drink,” Damon insisted, leading him down an alleyway a block away from the tavern. As promised, over a dozen redcoats were waiting. 

“Hey, look, redcoats.” 

Damon shoved him forward. Frank still had no clue what was going on.

They stepped to the side as Jefferson approached from behind. Seeing Frank, he unholstered a pistol before shooting him in the head. The drunk layed dead face down on the road, blood coming from his head.

“Get the rest of your crew. My men will be waiting at the docks for them.”

Damon nodded before running back to his ship. He felt no guilt at all. 

“Hey! Hey!”

“What the hell… what?” one of the pirates asked, annoyed.

“They killed Frank!”

“What? Who?”

“Them! The British!”

“Hey snooze asses, the Englishmen here just killed Frank!”

That riled up his crew. Within minutes, they had gathered swords, pikes, and axes.

“We’ll give them what they deserve!” they yelled, stepping onto the docks.

Suddenly, the roaring of the pirates stopped. At least sixty redcoats were marching towards the docks. They stopped where the road met the docks, and the two sides stared down the other one.

Eventually, a majority of the pirates rushed the British while some stayed behind with muskets. The British used the same tactic, leaving some at the back with guns while others fought hand to hand. Soon, a thin line of smoke soon hung over them, and the usually quiet Kingston docks had turned into an all out brawl.

He waited for his men with the longarms to join the melee fight. After a minute, when only one of the pirates was still wielding a musket, he drew his own sword and approached the fight. He thrust it into the back of him, grabbing the musket before kicking the man off the steel blade. He fell down onto the ground, blood seeping from his stomach as he desparately tried to stop it with his hands. Damon aimed the gun at the back of the head and fired, no one suspecting anything.

Tossing the musket aside, he pulled out a flintlock and shot another in the neck, a large bearded man hacking away at the redcoats with a naval axe. He stumbled backwards, clutching the spot where the bullet went in, tripping over a dead body, which grabbed the attention of two other sailors. They looked at Damon, standing under a streetlight, still holding the pistol in his hand, not even trying to hide it.

“Traitor!” they yelled, rushing him.

He parried both cuts before kicking one in the stomach, thrusting the steel into the man’s throat. He twisted the blade before pulling it out to face the other one. 

“Soft spot for the British, eh?” he spat.

“Nassau is dead,” he replied, blood running down the side of his cutlass. “Just like you will be.”

He deflected blow after blow, not even breaking a sweat. The sailor tried to jab at his stomach, but he moved away at the last second, making sure his foot would _barely_ trip him. And it worked. He stumbled, giving Damon time to draw another pistol and put a bullet in his head. He fell off the docks and splashed into the water.

Holstering his gun, he turned to see the last few of who were his crewmembers being cut down by the British. Bodies of both sides piled on the docks, blood seeping through the wooden planks into the ocean below. 

Jefferson approached, surveying the aftermath. He said nothing as he made his way to Damon, tossing him a small pouch.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, catching it.

“Your payment. This is one less pirate crew, five hundred pounds, as we agreed on.”

He looked at the contents inside. It was actually there. _Five hundred_ fucking pounds. Sealing the pouch back up, he placed it in his coat pocket. “Now what?”

“As I said earlier, we will outfit your ship with better cannons, sails, and more armor while Hornigold is retrieving Nassau.” Jefferson said before turning and walking away.

He walked to the edge of the docks, the moonlight shining from a cloudless sky onto a calm ocean, taking out the pouch again and looking inside of it. He couldn’t believe it, and couldn’t wait for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry for the wait, burnout and writing insecurities are a pain in my ass. The fight scene was pretty epic to write though, expect more in the future. 
> 
> Side note, if I’m being completely honest, I can’t promise a set updated schedule anymore, at least not with this fic. However, I WILL finish it, I swear. I just don’t know how long it’ll take.

**Author's Note:**

> Well look at that- it’s not historically accurate. 
> 
> Inspiration Links-  
> [Pirates of the Caribbean 10 hours](https://youtu.be/QFLeTga9CN0)  
> [All AC IV shanties](https://youtu.be/uicC2MUZ24I)
> 
> As always, comments/critiques are more than welcome.


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